Barbara Allen

T'was in the merry month of May
When green buds were a'swellin,
Sweet William on his death-bed lay
For the love of Barbara Allen.

Slowly, slowly she got up,
And slowly she went nigh him,
And all she said when she got there,
"Young man, I think you're dying."

"O yes, I'm sick and very sick,
And death is on me dwellin',
No better shall I ever be
If I don't get Barbara Allen."

"Don't you remember the other day
When we were in the tavern,
You gave a toast to the ladies there
but slighted Barbara Allen?"

"O yes, I remember the other day
When we were in the Tavern,
I gave a toast to the ladies fair,
but my love to Barbara Allen."

He turned his face towards the wall,
for death was in him dwellin'.
"Goodbye, goodbye, my dear friends all,
Be kind to Barbara Allen."

As she was walkin' towards her home,
She heard the death bells knelling,
And every toll they seemed to say,
"Hard-hearted Barbara Allen."

She looked east, she looked west,
She saw his corpse a-comin'.
"Lay down, lay down the corpse," she said,
"And let me gaze upon him."

"O mother, mother make my bed,
O make it long and narrow,
Sweet William died for me today,
I'll die for him tomorrow."

Sweet William died on a Saturday night,
And Barbara died on Sunday,
Her mother died for the love of both,
And was buried Easter Monday.

They buried Willie in the old church yard,
And Barbara there anigh him,
And out of his grave grew a red, red rose,
And out of hers, a briar.

They grew and grew in the old churchyard,
Till they couldn't grow no higher,
They lapped and tied in a true love's knot.
The rose ran around the briar.